Whispers in the Sand

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘I’ll rescue it tonight.’ Anna grimaced. ‘I don’t like the thought of it being soaked.’

  ‘Of course, you could stand up now and walk over to it and dig it up. No one would notice. Probably.’

  ‘Probably.’ Anna smiled. And if they did whose business was it but hers? But she didn’t move. A casual glance around the deck had revealed Andy asleep beneath his straw hat, a beer beside him on the small table between the chairs. There was no sign of Charley. And no sign of Toby.

  Moored as they were now alongside another much larger cruiser in the crowded river at Aswan she had the uncomfortable feeling all the time that they were being overlooked. Two people at least were standing on its top deck looking down at them. Perhaps a dozen more might be staring from behind the shutters of their cabin windows. But it was more than that.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair and glanced again at the scarlet, green and orange of the plants.

  A tall figure was standing beside them. For a moment she could not move. She stared, taking in every detail of the long white pleated robe, the dark, aquiline features, the glittering eyes. It must be one of the crew. One of the waiters. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe she raised her hand to her dark glasses and pushed them up onto her forehead so she could see better. Immediately he disappeared.

  ‘Serena.’ Her voice sounded strangled even to her own ears.

  There was no response. Serena’s eyes were closed.

  ‘Serena!’

  ‘What is it?’ Serena sat up. She had caught the urgency in Anna’s tone.

  ‘Look at the plants!’

  Serena swung round to look. Then she turned back to Anna. ‘What?’

  ‘Can you see anything? Him!’

  Without a word Serena turned back towards the bow of the boat. Then, slowly, she shook her head. ‘What did you see?’

  ‘A tall man. In a long white robe. He’s guarding it!’ She took off her sunglasses with shaking hands. ‘I saw him clearly. In broad daylight! With people all around!’ Her voice had risen to a high-pitched cry. ‘I saw him!’

  She realised suddenly that she was trembling all over.

  ‘It’s all right, Anna.’ Serena hauled herself up out of her chair and perched on the edge of Anna’s to put her arm round her shoulders. ‘You’re safe. There’s no one there now.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Andy was suddenly standing beside them. Obviously he had been watching them and heard her cry out. ‘Isn’t she well? Can I do anything?’ His voice was sharp with concern.

  Serena looked up. ‘Thanks. She’s fine. Just a touch of the sun and too much walking.’ She glanced round and found a dozen pairs of curious eyes fixed on them. Most people looked away at once when they saw she had noticed them, but Ben had levered himself upright and was coming over.

  Anna rubbed her face with the palms of her hands. ‘It’s OK. Please, don’t fuss.’

  Andy squatted down beside the chair. He smelt gently but not unpleasantly of beer. ‘You don’t look OK. You’re white as a sheet. Do you want me to help you to your cabin?’

  ‘No. No, thank you.’ She glanced down to where he had put a gentle hand over the back of hers. She didn’t shake it off. ‘I’m fine, Andy. Honestly.’

  ‘It’s very easy to get too much sun without realising it. Why not go down on the afterdeck under the awning? It’s cooler there and I’ll get you a nice cold drink.’

  Suddenly it seemed easier not to argue and the offer anyway was tempting. With a furtive backward glance towards the bows she stood up and let Andy and Ben lead her towards the shade. Serena gathered up their belongings and followed.

  If anyone noticed a slight shadow hovering for a moment over the display of potted plants on the deck they might have thought it came from one of the men who were ushering her towards the steps.

  Once she was comfortably ensconced at one of the shaded tables Andy disappeared to find her a drink. Serena sat down opposite her. ‘It could be imagination.’ She shrugged.

  Anna gave a small laugh. ‘Perhaps they’re right and I have had too much sun.’ Looking up she gave a small grimace. ‘I just want to be a tourist, Serena.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I could leave it there, in the earth. Or throw it in the Nile.’

  ‘You could.’

  ‘But it’s part of my heritage! My great-aunt would never forgive me if I went home without it.’

  ‘I’m sure she would if she knew what had happened.’

  ‘How could I tell her? “By the way, Aunty Phyl, that lovely little scent bottle you gave me when I was a small child turned out to be cursed”.’ She closed her eyes and shook her head miserably. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘I’ve told you, give it to Omar to lock up. We’ve got some exciting trips over the next few days. We won’t be on the boat much. We don’t start the return cruise until we come back from the two days in Abu Simbel. Relax. Be a tourist.’ She smiled. ‘And enjoy being the centre of attention!’ She had glanced over Anna’s head and spotted Andy approaching with a tray of drinks.

  Anna followed her gaze and nodded ruefully. ‘I’m not sure even that is without its complications. I can’t believe your flatmate has hung up her duelling pistols yet!’

  Serena snorted. ‘Probably not. But at least there is something very earthy about Charley. You don’t have to worry that she might dematerialise or suddenly appear as a wraith in your shower.’

  When Andy put his tray down they were laughing. He smiled. ‘Feeling better?’

  Anna nodded. ‘You were right. Too much sun. All I needed was some shade.’

  It was after supper, as she was sitting with Serena in the lounge that Toby came over. Andy was sitting at the bar. She suspected he had already had several drinks.

  Toby perched on the edge of a sofa near them. ‘I think I owe you an apology, Anna. Sorry if I trod on any toes this afternoon.’

  She shrugged. ‘You didn’t. Not really.’

  ‘No, you were right. It was none of my business.’

  Serena stood up.

  Anna frowned. ‘Are you going?’

  Serena nodded. ‘Forgive me. I’m so tired. I don’t think I have ever been so exhausted or slept so well on a holiday before. Their policy seems to be to wear you out and then feed you until you can’t move. Combine that with the heat and it works.’ She chuckled. ‘I’ll say goodnight to you both. Don’t forget we have another long day tomorrow.’

  They watched her walk slowly towards the door. ‘Nice woman.’ Toby beckoned over one of the Nubian waiters. ‘Can I get you a drink, Anna? Another peace offering.’ He smiled.

  She sat back on the sofa and nodded. ‘Thanks. A beer would be nice.’ Anna glanced at him sideways. She studied him with a quizzical smile. How could one man irritate so much one minute and intrigue her so much the next?

  They sat in silence for a while, watching the others. It was she who spoke first. ‘What do you do with all your sketches?’ she asked curiously as Ali put down the glasses on the table. ‘Do you work them up in your cabin or something, or will they all wait until you get home?’

  ‘Most will wait.’ He signed the chit and tossed it back onto the tray. ‘I have been working on one or two. I need to do some of it quickly to keep the colour, the heat, the light, in my head.’ He waved his arms as he spoke, drawing outlines in the air in front of him. ‘One thinks one won’t forget; the images are so vivid, so intense, but half an hour back in Blighty with its soft greens and mists and cloudy skies and that intensity will begin to blur.’ He picked up his glass and rolled it thoughtfully between his palms. ‘Painters are greedy. They want to capture ideas and keep them imprisoned on the paper or canvas. They gloat over them. They pin them down like butterflies wanting to trap the living essence of everything they see.’

  Anna smiled. She suspected he did not often reveal his inner thoughts like this, even perhaps to himself, and she was flattered that he trusted her enough to reveal his enthusiasm. ‘I envy you your creativity.
’

  ‘Why?’ Again the acerbic tone, the sudden direct look, which she found so disconcerting. ‘Anna, remember, you are a photographer. It is the same for you, your medium is different, that’s all.’

  ‘No. No, it’s not the same at all. You have genuine passion. Commitment. And you do it professionally. Felix was right. I just play at it.’

  ‘Art as a hobby can be just as passionate as you put it, just as all-encompassing as when you do it as a profession. After all, how do you know you won’t want to do it professionally one day? You are good and you have proved it, and you have that depth of understanding, that sense of rapport as you focus on your subjects which I suspect could make you more than good. It could make you first class.’

  He raised his eyes to hers. She could feel the colour coming to her cheeks under the intensity of his gaze.

  Toby buried his face in his glass and she had the feeling that he was as embarrassed by his revelations as she was. When he looked up he was calm again. ‘Louisa felt it, of course. The all-embracing intensity of this country. You can tell from her work. It must show in her diary too.’ He was changing the subject and they both knew it. He put his head on one side. ‘Would this be a good time to be allowed to look at it?’

  Anna laughed. ‘You’re not going to give up till I show it to you, are you?’

  ‘Nope.’ Toby shook his head.

  ‘OK.’ She stood up.

  She hadn’t really intended him to follow her. She meant to go back to her cabin, collect the diary and bring it back to their corner of the lounge. She pictured them continuing to sit together in companionable silence over another drink or a cup of coffee while he leafed slowly through the book. But he stood up with her, draining his glass as he did so, and when she tried to stop him with deprecating gestures of hands and shoulders, he merely smiled and kept moving.

  As she threaded her way past the knots of other drinkers she felt Andy’s eyes on her. She didn’t look at him.

  She left the cabin door open. ‘Let’s take it and go back to the lounge,’ she said as firmly as she could. She didn’t feel threatened or unsafe with him, just a little overcrowded; as though she needed to hold her breath or there wouldn’t be enough air for them both in the small space.

  The diary was on the bedside table. He spotted it instantly and sitting down on the bed, picked it up. Immediately he opened it, holding it gently on his opened palms with a reverence she found suddenly very touching.

  ‘Toby?’

  There was no reply. She doubted if he had heard her. She stood leaning against the cupboard, watching fascinated as he slowly turned the pages, devouring the book.

  Neither of them heard the step in the corridor outside. Only as the door was pushed back against the wall did Anna see Andy standing there looking at them.

  ‘I want a word, Anna!’ He sounded inexplicably angry. ‘Now, if you don’t mind.’

  She frowned as the restrained violence in his voice finally got through to Toby, who glanced up, resting the diary on his knee, a faraway look in his eyes.

  ‘Perhaps you could excuse us, Toby.’ Andy stepped into the cabin. ‘I’ll put this away, I think.’ Before Toby had a chance to react Andy had taken the diary off his knees. He pulled open the drawer in the bedside table and put the diary inside, then he slammed the drawer shut.

  ‘Andy! What are you doing?’ Anna said angrily. ‘How dare you barge in here like this!’

  Toby stood up. His face had darkened. ‘What the hell is this all about?’

  ‘A private matter.’ Andy reached out as though to take his arm.

  Toby flinched. ‘Don’t touch me, Watson. What the hell is the matter with you?’

  ‘Nothing at all.’ Andy moved back a little. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but it is important I talk to Anna. Alone. If you’ll excuse us.’

  ‘Anna?’ Toby looked at her. ‘Are you happy with this?’

  Anna was furious. She glared at Andy. ‘No, I’m not! Get out, Andy! I don’t know what this is all about! And I don’t care!’

  ‘I’ll tell you what it’s about as soon as we’re alone.’ Andy stepped back to the door and stood by it, very obviously ready to usher Toby outside.

  Anna saw Toby hesitate. She could feel his rage and resentment. ‘Perhaps you’d better go, Toby. We’ll look at the diary another time,’ she said. ‘I’ll deal with this.’

  Toby hesitated and she saw him look at Andy through narrowed eyes. For a moment she thought they were going to hit each other. Then abruptly Toby stepped past them out of the cabin. He did not look back.

  Andy shut the door. She could smell the beer on his breath. ‘This is important, Anna.’

  ‘Is something wrong? Whatever it is, it had better be good after that performance.’

  Andy sighed. ‘You mustn’t trust him, you shouldn’t be alone with him.’

  ‘Toby? This is about Toby?’ She was bemused.

  He sat down on the bed, almost exactly where Toby had sat only minutes before and for a moment his eyes rested on the closed drawer. ‘That is a very valuable item, Anna, and you are too trusting.’ He slumped back against the pillows. ‘How much do you actually know about Toby Hayward?’ There was a moment’s silence as he scrutinised her face. ‘I thought not.’ He scowled. He stood up and made for the door. ‘I won’t say any more now. Not without checking, but don’t be alone with him. Ever. And don’t let that diary out of your sight.’

  6

  The doors of heaven are opened for me; the doors of earth are opened for me. If the dead who lie here know the words of passage they shall come forth by day and they shall be in a position to journey about over the earth among the living.

  They bring more spades and crowbars to break down the door and penetrate the secret of the tomb, excited, always afraid, but driven to strength by their greed. A hole is made at the corner of the door and the dead empty air, baked hot by a hundred thousand suns exhales like the breath of the underworld from the darkness.

  Behind them there are eyes; watchers in the night who draw closer under the desert moon.

  Betrayal brings death. It is the word of the pharaoh.

  If the priests stir in the inner fastness which holds them; if the ray of sunlight, only a pinpoint through that small chipped hole, touches the ‘ka’ of either man, there is no one now to see. The hot wind blows. In a day, a week, a month, the sand has heaped once more against the door and the hole has gone. All is dark again.

  After Andy had gone Anna stood unmoving for several seconds before going to the door and turning the key in the lock. Had he been drunk? She wasn’t sure. He had certainly been melodramatic and was increasingly beginning to annoy her. On the other hand could he be right about Toby? She went over and took the diary out of the drawer and stood, holding it clutched against her chest, deep in thought.

  Toby was an attractive man, challenging to be with. Her initial resentment had changed to one of intrigued tolerance and then even to a feeling of genuine friendship. No more than that. But his reticence and his abrupt manner meant that in fact she knew nothing at all about him or his background, other than that he was a talented painter. She frowned. There was an angry defensive side to Toby; it was what she had resented so passionately when they first met, and there was a dark side, easily sparked in the course of what seemed the most innocent remark. But that didn’t make him someone to be afraid of, any more than she was afraid of Andy. The idea was ridiculous.

  Sitting down, she set the diary on her knee and opened it. To Toby it was, as far as she could see, a gateway into Louisa’s creative soul. He was interested in it for its content, for its pictures, for its revelations about Louisa’s relationship with Egypt. To Andy it was no more than a valuable artefact. The name Louisa Shelley meant nothing to him beyond its monetary worth. Still flustered and upset, she looked down at the page of slanted writing in front of her. To her it was the gateway to another world. And a world that, just at this moment, she was finding infinitely seductive if a litt
le frightening; certainly preferable to worrying about these men and their increasingly unpredictable behaviour. Determinedly she put them both out of her head and set about getting ready for bed.

  It was very early. A transparent wisp of mist hung over the Nile unmoving in the dawn light as Louisa, wrapped in a woollen shawl climbed on deck and went to stand at the stern of the boat. She could see some of the crew swabbing down the deck in the bow, but they were concentrating on their work and seemed not to see her.

  ‘Sitt Louisa?’ Hassan appeared only moments later. His feet were bare on the cool planking and she had not heard him approach.

  She turned towards him and smiled. Her heart had leapt at the sound of his voice. Behind him two egrets flew low over the water, heading downstream. On a nearby dahabeeyah the crew were making ready to raise the sail. The early night caught their colourful clothes in a patch of busy movement. At sunrise the wind would come, blowing from the north.

  ‘You are all right? You are not afraid, after last night?’ Hassan’s voice was grave.

  She shook her head. ‘I hope the crew are not upset about being searched. That was not my idea. I know no one on the boat would have taken my scent bottle. Especially not you!’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘Sir John was not to know that. There was murmuring amongst the crew, but I have set it right with them, do not worry.’ He held her eye for a moment. ‘They say there was no river pirate. There could not have been.’

  ‘No.’ She turned away from him. ‘As you know, the scent bottle was found safely. It was in my cabin as I suspect it had been all along.’